Damn you, Sassenach! his voice said, from a very great distance. His voice was choked with passion. Dam you! I swear if ye die on me, I'll kill you!
D'ye ken that the only time I am without pain is in your bed, Sassenach? When I take ye, when I lie in your arms-my wounds are healed, then, my scars forgotten.
Could I but lay my head in your lap, lass. Feel your hand on me, and sleep wi' the scent of you in my bed. Christ, Sassenach. I need ye.
Come to bed, a nighean. Nothing hurts when ye love me. He was right; nothing did.
Cirein Croin!
Careful! I said. Don’t twist like that, or your dressing will come off! What are you trying to do? Get my plaid loose to cover you, he replied. You’re shivering. But I canna do it one-handed. Can ye r...
But to return to thy question, we consider our life here on earth to be a sacrament, lived in the light of Christ. There may be an afterlife, but as no one has come back to say so, it’s a matter of sp...
But the future reaches out to us, as does the past, and all times are the present.
But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face; It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists; It is in his walk, the carraige of his nex...
But here, he said, so softly I could barely hear him, here in the dark, with you … I have no name.
But for the hours of the night, I was helpless; powerless to move as a dragonfly in amber.
But a man is not forgotten, as long as there are two people left under the sky. One, to tell the story; the other, to hear it. So.
Boston is by all Accounts a perfect Hellhole of republican Sentiment,
Between hell now, and hell later, Sassenach, he said, his speech measured and precise, I will take later, every time.
Betelgeuse. Sirius. Orion. Antares. The sky is very large, and you are very small. Let the words washthrough him, the voice and its memories pass over him, shivering his skin like the touch of a ghost...
Because, Sassenach, he said, very dryly indeed, when ye’re a man, a good bit of what ye have to do is to draw up lines and fight other folk who come over them. Your enemies, your tenants, your childre...
Aye, I see. Aye well, I suppose if I shall be in Scotland, and still married to you—then maybe ‘when’ doesna matter so much.
At the best of times, Father Bain's face resembled a clenched fist.
As Grey put his hand on the pommel, he heard a low Scots voice murmur in his ear: Queen’s rook to king eight. Check. Grey laughed out loud, a burst of exhilaration pushing aside his disquiet. Ha, he s...
Any piece of good music is in essence a love song.